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by Nickidemus



Series: Senses Thought Dead [3]
Category: Supernatural, Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 02:34:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/669251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nickidemus/pseuds/Nickidemus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe Damon has a heart after all. Sort of.</p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during season one of The Vampire Diaries.

Lenore sat atop Damon’s bed, nude with her legs folded beneath her, gazing idly at his things. He didn’t seem like much of a collector. She got the impression that if anything was considered to have value, especially of the sentimental variety, it was Stefan who kept it, not Damon. It said a lot about him, about Damon’s lack of what made people human. About the fact that it might’ve been a forceful, self-imposed lack.

“So I suppose we aren’t fighting anymore?” Lenore asked him, resting her chin against her own shoulder with a smoky gaze.

“Depends on how you choose to act,” he said. “If you want to consider a truce…”

“You’re always a little reluctant to give anyone the benefit of the doubt,” she noted. “What else do you want me to do? Besides taking it up the ass.” She said this so calmly, dreamily, it was barely a curse.

Damon took a deep breath. “Tell me more about your kind. Like how you came over here in the sun.”

“Well, it wasn’t a magic ring,” she said, nodding toward his hand and almost laughing when he tried to cover it. “My kind don’t burn. More like… we sunburn. I covered up and hurried, simply put.”

“Okay,” he said, rubbing his chin as he pondered what else he wanted to know. “How are you turned?”

“Similarly to you,” she said. “Very, in fact. That kissing cousins remark you made may not have been too far off.” She tilted her head and squinted up at the ceiling. “We don’t have your speed, but we’re not slow either. We can be very strong, and whether or not we drink human blood doesn’t affect that. We prefer to gather in nests with our own kind. Dead man’s blood hurts. Decapitation is the only way we can be killed. Garlic, stakes, and crosses are all fine. And we’re not afraid of the big bad wolf. Yes, I’ve heard about that.”

Damon glared, seeming not to find the comment cute. “I thought you wanted a truce?”

“I do,” she said. “Which is why what I say next will be important.” She scooted over to him and rested back against his bare chest, feeling his arm encircle her shoulders. “Hunters. I’m sure you’ve heard of them, but I get the feeling you haven’t encountered some of the more… devoted ones. There have been some I’ve convinced of my nest’s good intentions, our sobriety I guess is the word. And there are others who won’t be deterred.”

“You’re warning me,” he murmured against her ear.

“Because you’re a perfect target,” she sighed. “You do the worst things to the most innocent people. Or the most easily manipulated. And the hunters I’ve encountered find themselves to be very noble in the way they shoot first and ask questions later. There are good apples among them, as with any group. I’m a good apple.” She glanced back at him. “Most of the time. And few would expect it of my kind. But I’ve… had my share of bad run-ins with hunters.”

“Did you use the tactics you used with me?” he laughed. “Because that might have something to do with it.” When she stiffened and said nothing else, he sighed and squeezed her. “Tell me.”

“Why?” she asked. “So you can use it to your advantage?” He didn’t answer, and some part of her knew it was because in the same way he didn’t collect sentimental objects, he didn’t admit to his buried better nature. “He found our nest and started picking us off, one by one. I managed to talk some sense into his partners, a couple of those good apples. But he was determined to prove I was… wrong inside. So he went to work on me with a knife and some dead blood. It was… horrible. I might as well speak plainly if I’m going to speak at all. He tried to tempt me with blood, and I resisted, even though I was so weak and sick. My understanding is he’s dead now. I wasn’t there to see it, but I heard. He became one of us. In the end, he understood the lust. And he was no better than the worst of what he killed. I don’t know if that’s funny or terrible.”

“Both,” Damon said at last. Sympathy was something he didn’t easily feel, but he felt the moment deserved more than his usual response. Yet he didn’t have the words. Not good ones, anyway. His best responses were the cruel ones. So rather than flounder for something sweet that wouldn’t come, he kissed her.

This time, when they curled around each other, his body hard and unforgiving and hers so soft, he carefully parted her legs and slid deep. It made her arch and gasp, but in the most gentle way. But Damon’s patience only went so far, and here it barely encompassed the first of his thrusts. He urged her to hold on, pressing her up against the headboard. Her breasts were a feast and made her impossibly wetter when he showed them the slightest attention, and he was soon pounding her so relentlessly that his large bed shook.

He held her wrists up on either side her head, his legs tucked under her and his lips and teeth dancing with hers. Her legs spread for him so that he might go deeper, go harder, and he wondered just how much she hated herself for this. At the moment, it seemed she wasn’t capable of thought that deep, and her moans were surely drowning out anything sensible.

She came hard. She always did, and it felt as if his cock were in a tight fist. He followed shortly after, rocking her hard in those last moments. And then it was back on the pillows, curled up and sated.

“Was that ‘I’m sorry you were tortured sex’ that we just had?” Lenore asked, a smile in her voice.

“I thought I was supposed to be the local smartass,” he replied, sounding putout.

She snorted and lay silent, finally breaking it with a soft, “Thank you.”

Damon didn’t respond aloud, choosing instead to put a finger to her lips, shushing her even as he held her close.


End file.
